Saved by the Grace of Southern Charm
by FoxyWombat
Summary: I don't have to be hateful; I can just say 'bless your heart' - A little bit of pre-series Cricket & Blake.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I haven't written in forever and even though I'm hesitant about writing a back story when so much canon is still up on in the air, this idea has been bouncing around in my head for a week and I had to put it out there. Right now, it's a one shot but depending on how my mind wanders, there may be more.

* * *

**October 1991**

He recognized the jewelry as it flashed through the stacks of UT's main library before the person wearing it registered. "Cricket Caruth," he said. There was no verbal response but through the stacks he could tell that the silhouette of the eighteen-year-old had frozen in place. He stepped into the aisle, crossed his arms, and leaned against a bookshelf while he waited for her to respond.

"Blake Reilly." Only after she said his name did she turn around. "Hello," she said with the smirk of a smile he remembered well.

"This is the first time we've talked since college started and all you have to say is 'hello'?"

"We're in a library, Blake," Cricket shot back in a harsh whisper while giving him a look as if speaking in that space was the equivalent of breaking a commandment. "What do you want me to do? Sing you a song?" He didn't say anything but just shot her a grin, which didn't seem to faze her. "I need to check these out," she said with a tap of the books in her arms. "Excuse me."

"I'll go with you." He grabbed the first book in reach. "I need to check this out too."

She turned away so he couldn't see her face, but he knew she was rolling her eyes. He tried to start up a conversation as they walked through the library but she just held her finger to her lips with a disapproving look in her eye.

"So, Cricket," he began once they were outside the library. "How've you been?"

"Well. You?"

"Can't complain." He waited for her to say something but she just gave him a practiced smile. "Congrats on Tri Delt," he said as they started walking in the direction of where he knew she lived.

Her eyes narrowed as she cast him a sidelong glance. "How did you know I rushed Tri Delt?"

"Because Cricket Caruth would never rush anything but the best."

"Each sorority has its own merits."

Blake smirked at her diplomacy. "But there's nothing like those three little triangles."

"Not quite." She stopped suddenly and crossed her arms. With her smile fading, she shot him a look somewhere between annoyance and accusation. "What do you want, Blake?" she asked

"Nothing. You remind me of home-a touch of Dallas society that Austin so sorely lacks." It wasn't a lie-more of a half truth. Blake wasn't homesick but he did miss Dallas. His real motivation, however, was curiosity. They hadn't spoken since the last coffee hour of the summer in the church fellowship hall even though their paths had crossed a number of times on UT's campus. Yet somehow, Cricket was always surrounded by her newfound sorority sister and if he did catch her eye, the most he got was a nod of acknowledgement.

"I am not the only girl from Dallas in this school. Let one of them give you that _society_ you so desperately desire."

She began walking again—faster this time—but he easily kept in step with her despite her efforts. "Not high society."

"If you wanted that, you should have gone to SMU." She didn't stop but slowed her pace to a more normal one. "Why didn't you go to SMU?"

"Same reason you didn't."

"You wanted a degree instead of an engagement ring?" she teased lightly.

He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers. "I've never been one for diamonds," he said. It earned him a hint of an actual—not smirking—smile. "Honestly, Cricket, I thought you were headed to Rice."

The hint of a smile faded into her more frozen one. "You thought wrong."

"You had a full ride, didn't you?" he asked, knowing that she did. In high school, most of the girls never wanted to appear unattractively smart, so Cricket had never overtly shown off her intelligence, but Blake knew she had always been at the top of their class.

"Daddy Bo went to Texas," she said a little too sharply. "Besides the business program is a lot stronger here," she finished in a more even tone.

Blake could tell there was more to it than what she said, but he let it slide. He had his own reasons for choosing UT that he wanted to keep private and he figured he should let her do the same.

"Speaking of business program," she continued. "It was wonderful to talk to you but I need to go study. I have an economics midterm on Tuesday."

"So do I." She gave him a look of surprise and he couldn't quite tell whether it was feigned or legitimate. "We're in the same class."

"So are two hundred other people."

"There are only fifty in anthropology." Her face didn't change, but Blake could tell she had known they were in the same class. "Don't lie to me, Cricket. And I saw you at the Sigma Chi party Friday night too." He stopped walking and asked, "Why have you been avoiding me?"

She kept walking. "I haven't."

"Cricket."

This time she stopped and turned back to look at him. "Just because two people went to the same high school it doesn't mean they need to hang out in college."

Her face and voice didn't convey it, but Blake could tell she was angry. He had thought she was avoiding him because she believed she was better than him—after all, it had barely been two months and Cricket already had made a social name for herself based on wealth and influence—but he now realized her reasons ran deeper.

"What is it you want us to do? Reminisce about all the fun times we had at Hillside?" she continued lightly. "What 'fun times'? From what I recall, you barely spoke to me our senior year." Before he could open his mouth to argue, she added, "Saying hello to my daddy and me after church doesn't count."

She was right and he knew it. While he wasn't cruel to her, he had been too caught up in football and his own reputation to pay her much mind after the rumors broke out. Rather than defend himself, he changed the subject. "We could study," he suggested.

"Really? What makes you think I _need_ a study partner?"

"I'm sure you don't, but I do," he said with a wide grin. "Consider it a charity project."

"I do enough charity."

He didn't drop his smile but it became more serious. "A business deal then."

"I'm listening."

"Thanksgiving's in less than a month."

"And everyone will expect some overlap in our lives," she said and he was glad she was following his reasoning, but could tell she still hadn't fully bought in on it.

"Telling them we're study partners will be endearing."

"It'll make you look like the good cowboy protecting me from this big ol' state school," she said dramatically. He held back a smirk at the way she described it, but that was exactly what she was thinking. "I still don't see what's in it for me," she finished skeptically.

"You plan to go back to Dallas after you graduate, right?" Blake asked and she nodded. "Then you're going to need make nice with all those girls shooting for their MRS at SMU."

"I don't need your help."

"I know, but this:" He paused and gave her his best flirtatious grin. "Will make it easy."

"You're full of yourself."

"I'm charming," he said confidently as he offered his hand. "So are you in?"

She looked at his hand for a split second before gripping it firmly. "I'm meeting friends for diner, but tonight: eight o'clock."

* * *

A/N: Hit that little button and let me know what you think. Comments and constructive criticism always welcomed. Oh, and I feel compelled to note that SMU is a great school and that not everyone goes there for the wedding ring, but having gone to a southern institution myself, I know from experience that some girls focus on things other than grades._  
_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Apparently, I can't get these two out of my head—the dynamic is just so interesting. This one's from Cricket's perspective and I struggled a bit trying to write it. I hope she doesn't come across as too insecure here—I just can't see her trusting Blake completely right away since he was best friends with Amanda. Also, I talk about hunting. I know nothing about hunting, so hopefully that's not blatantly obvious.

* * *

**January 1992**

As much as she hated to admit it, Blake had been right: regaining her position at the top of the social ladder was easier with him at her side. Even without him, Cricket knew she could have done it. After Amanda Vaughn left town to become California's problem, there was a power vacuum that Cricket was ready to fill. Her daddy's generation still held the social clout in Dallas, but in five or six years there would be a changing of the guard and she was going to be poised to step up.

The other Hillside foxes—the ones like Sharon soon-to-be-Peacham who blindly followed Amanda's whims—lacked the ambition to truly lead, and those who had the ambition—like Heather Cruz—traded in gossip and lies without any power of their own. The only possible threat came in the 4'11" form of Carlene 'Kitten' Lourd, whose blond hair and new nose clearly stated that no one was going to toss her aside as a javelina any more, but that didn't worry Cricket. After all, one friendly hug from Blake during coffee hour their first Sunday back for Thanksgiving break solidified her return to the center of their high school group and Cricket planned to never let go of that spot.

"I told you so."

Cricket turned around to see Blake climbing the stairs of her Granddaddy Bo's hunting. "Told me what?"

"That we make excellent partners."

"That wasn't what I was thinking."

"Then what?"

She hated his ability to get inside her head with only one look. "The hunt," she said simply. It was still lie, but it was the reason they were up at the cabin in the first place so it made a good one. "I could have done better."

"You out-shot all the women."

"But not the men," she said distractedly as her mind drifted back to her daddy's comment that she had 'shot well, for a daughter.'

"You beat over half of them too."

"Not good enough." Cricket could tell by his look that he was trying read into her comment, so she added quickly, "But you know me—always a perfectionist."

"The level of detail you put into your supply and demand curves during our study sessions was terrifying."

She was pleased he accepted her change of subject without protest. "But those study sessions got you an A, remember?"

"Please, it was my color coordination on those charts that made the difference."

"Believe what you want." Glancing in the direction of downstairs, she asked, "Who all's still down there?"

"Your daddy and mine, plus a couple others," he said. "It was winding down though."

"Have your parents been enjoying themselves or did we scare them off?" she asked. The last twenty-four hours had not been that dramatic—just a New Year's Eve party followed by a morning hunt with another celebratory meal right after—but after nearly twenty years, the event had developed its own set of rules and traditions that could be overwhelming.

"They have been. Thanks for inviting them."

"That was Daddy Bo, not me."

"Oh, come on, Cricket, everybody knows that you've been putting together your daddy's guest lists since middle school."

He was right. The New Year's Eve party was always her favorite to plan because the invitations were limited by the size of her granddaddy's hunting cabin. Daddy Bo always had a few people from Caruth he wanted to invite but the rest were entirely up to her. The Reilly family had never made the cut—not for lack of wealth—simply because they spent more time out at their ranch than they did in Dallas.

"Least I could do for my study buddy," she said with a teasing lilt to her voice.

"Well, thank you."

The sincerity in his voice surprised her. Plenty of people had thanked her for invitations over the years and although that gratitude was never wholly insincere, most of it came laced with a sense of entitlement—that they were thanking for something they believed the deserved. The fact that Blake's thanks weren't followed by a wink or smirk was almost unnerving. "You're welcome," she said; hating the way her surprise somehow leaked itself into those two little words. "So, you goin' to turn in soon?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Wasn't sure it was safe—don't want to disturb my roommate."

"They're in my room," she said with barely contained laugh. "Sharon decided it would be less conspicuous for me to be roaming around the cabin than for you."

"And you let them? That doesn't sound like you."

"I told her I'd shoot Zack if they did anything on my bed."

"Now, that's the Cricket we all know and love," he said with a laugh. "I'll wait up with you, but—come on—let's get some snacks first."

He headed back towards the stairs, but she didn't move. "Snacks? We just ate dinner."

"That was hours ago and you don't have to eat them, but come on, girl."

She smiled at his insistence and followed him downstairs. They were halfway to the kitchen when she heard her daddy's voice.

"Cricket."

Cricket stopped in place and turned around. "You need something, Daddy Bo?" she asked.

"No, I didn't expect you to still be awake. Sharon turned in a while ago."

"My fault, sir," Blake said. "I wanted a snack and asked Cricket to help me rustle up something. I hope we weren't keeping anyone up."

"No one's complaining," he said. "It's nice to have a lot of young people here this year."

Cricket kept her face blank as she met her daddy's gaze—those last two seemingly innocuous words were directed at her. This time last year, Amanda's rumor had died down so she was no longer a complete social pariah, but she couldn't shake the stigma of being branded a javelina the September before. At her daddy's insistence, the Stoppers were still invited, but Amanda threw her own party in Dallas so only parents showed up at the cabin—no teenagers. That was the first year the Lourds had made the guest list because Cricket knew Carlene would show up and save her from having to spend two days of awkward small talk with Gigi Stopper and the other mothers whose daughters had blatantly snubbed her.

"I'm going to head up," he continued. "You kids don't stay up too late."

"We won't," Blake assured him.

"Goodnight, Daddy Bo."

"Goodnight, darling," he told her. "I want to have a word with Blake—he'll meet you in the kitchen in a minute."

"Of course," she said brightly. It wasn't until she turned around that a scowl formed on her face. She hated being dismissed and she hated not knowing what her daddy was telling Blake. Most eighteen-year-olds would assume it was the standard lecture teenage boys received, but Cricket knew that wasn't what was going on in the other room.

It wasn't that he didn't care. Even as she was slamming down a bowl on the counter and angrily filling it with chips, Cricket knew that Daddy Bo cared about her, but he had made it clear that her reputation was hers to guard. Amanda's rumor may have started in the high school but it eventually reached the church in the form of _concerned_—i.e., gossiping—whispers. They got home from church one afternoon and Daddy Bo asked her point-blank if it was true. He had been calm, rational and business-like. He believed her almost immediately when she said it wasn't—that it couldn't be true—but instead of offering her sympathy or even advice on how to deal with the rumors, he just told her she must have done something that allowed people to think they were true. And that if she was old enough to get herself into the situation, she could get herself out of it.

They never spoke of it again, but Cricket couldn't forget the disappointment in his eyes over the predicament that only a _daughter_ could get herself into. She heard Blake's footsteps approaching and pushed away the memory while forcing a smile on her face. "I hope you like chips," she said as he walked in.

"Chips are good."

He stood on the opposite side of the island from her and she kept the bowl out of his reach and near hers as if she was holding them hostage. "What'd Daddy Bo have to say to you?"

"Nothing really—he just said he was glad you and I were friends."

"Right. He's glad you were willing to be my friend." One look at his face told Cricket she was right. She picked up the bowl and walked around the island so she stood near him. "You're a terrible liar, Blake Reilly," she added before thrusting the bowl into his hands and walking out of the kitchen.

She was barely five feet down the hall before she felt his hand on her arm. "Hold up there, Crick," he said. "You don't just get storm off like that."

"It's _my_ granddaddy's cabin—I can do whatever I want." She shook her arm to try and free from his grasp. "Will you let go?"

"Only if you agree to sit down and talk."

"Fine."

He let go of her arm and they walked to the now empty sitting room next to stairs. Once they were seated on the couch, he said, "If you want to be mad at your daddy, go ahead, but don't take it out on me."

"I'm not mad at my daddy." She crossed her arms. "I'm not even mad at you."

"Now who's lying?"

"I'm mad at myself for being foolish enough to think that you and I could actually be friends. We're allies at best."

"You know what I told your daddy?" he asked. "I said I was lucky you were willing to be my friend."

"Like you really meant that," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Not fifteen minutes ago you were singing the praises of the partnership that _you_ created."

"I only proposed that arrangement because you wouldn't give me the time of day, remember?"

"Oh, so this is my fault?"

"You're the one who thinks all friendships come with strings attached."

"Don't they?"

"Not the real ones," he said with such easy certainty that it was almost unnerving.

"And that's what we are?"

"You tell me." She bit the inside of her cheek instead of answering. "Come on, Cricket, just be honest. You can trust me."

"I honestly don't know," she admitted before breaking eye contact and looking down at her hands. "I'm not like you, Blake."

"What do you mean?"

"You're so…" Her eyes flicked up and met his briefly as she searched for the right word. "Likeable," she finished. "I'm just...demanding."

"You know what you want and don't stop until you get it."

She looked up from her hands and narrowed her eyes on him. "Thank you for providing the definition of demanding."

"You're determined and you don't let anything stand in your way. I respect that—I respect you."

Cricket studied for a minute, trying to find something in his body language that he teasing her or was otherwise being insincere but found nothing. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I…"

Before she could say more, Zack came down the stairs. "Oh, hey guys," he said with a cheeky grin.

"Hey man," Blake said while Cricket just smirked.

"Sharon was asking if you're ever gonna get some sleep."

"I'll bet," Cricket said with a laugh. She stood up and headed for the stairs. "Night boys."

Zack headed down the hall to the first floor bedroom but Blake followed her to the stairs. "What else were you going to say?" he asked.

"Nothing really," she said with the shrug. "I'll see you in the morning, _friend_."

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Let me know?


	3. Chapter 3

**April 1992**

Standing outside the door of Cricket's apartment, Blake was only half surprised to hear music and the rhythmic thump of what he assumed was her feet on the treadmill. After two sharp knocks on the door, he heard the feet stop and then the music.

A few seconds later, the door opened. "Blake?"

"Hey girl," he greeted with a smile. He gave her a quick once over and was amused by how surprisingly put together she looked for someone working out alone in her apartment. "Hunter Jean said you were sick, so I brought chicken soup." Blake walked inside without waiting for an invitation. "You don't look sick."

She eyed the pizza box he set on the counter. "That doesn't look like chicken soup."

"Good thing you're not sick," he joked. He set the brown bag he was carrying next to the pizza box and pulled out a six-pack of beer bottles.

"And what if you showed up to find me on the couch coughing and surrounded by tissues?"

He didn't answer her immediately and instead pulled a can of Campbell's soup from the bag. Tossing it to her, he said, "I had back up." She caught it easily and rolled her eyes as she set it on the counter. He crossed the small kitchen to turn the oven on and asked, "Why'd you tell Hunter Jean you were sick?"

Cricket didn't answer, which confirmed what he had suspected: she was actively avoiding the _Mom's Weekend_ events of her sorority. Not that he blamed her, since he was doing his own version of avoidance with Millie, the blonde Tri Delt he'd been seeing on and off for the past couple months.

"Why aren't you out with Millie?" she asked instead. Sometimes Blake swore she could read his mind. "Shouldn't you be meeting her mama?"

"I broke it off. Meeting her mama would make her think that things were more serious than they were," he said, mixing truth with lies.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Millie's your friend and I'm the guy who broke up with her. You should be calling me a dog."

"Yeah, but you're my friend too," she said with a shrug. "Besides you brought me pizza; Millie didn't."

"Because Millie thinks you're sick," he said. Blake couldn't help but go back to her sick story rather than continue discussing the end of a relationship in which he had never gotten emotionally involved. His biggest concern while they had been dating was making sure he didn't lead Millie on and make her believe that it was anything more than casual.

She crossed her arms and shot him a glare. "I got better."

"I brought movies." He reached into the bag and held out the two VHS tapes as a peace offering. She didn't say anything immediately, but the small twitch in the corner of her mouth told him what he needed to know.

"_Cape Fear_ and _Silence of the Lambs_," she said finally. "Good choices."

"I aim to please."

"I need to shower," she told him. "I'll just be a few minutes."

Blake shook his head as she walked away knowing full well that Cricket's _few minutes_ would be closer to thirty. He took a container out of the bag and set it in the refrigerator and rummaged through the various take out boxes lining the shelves until he found what he needed to make a salad. Grabbing the cutting board from the drying rack in the sink, he pulled a knife from the drawer and began chopping. By the time Cricket emerged from her bedroom, he was already carrying the two bowls of salad to the coffee table in front of the TV.

"You make that?" she asked.

"Don't look so surprised," he joked. "This isn't the 1950s, Crick, men can cook too."

"That's not what I meant—I didn't know we had vegetables."

"You didn't—Hunter Jean did," he said. "I figured she wouldn't mind."

"She's spending the night at the hotel with her mama and will come back tomorrow with a car full of groceries, so I'm sure she won't even notice."

Blake opened the oven, pulled out the pizza, and turned around to find her staring at him in surprise. "What?"

"You put the pizza box in the oven? Even I know cardboard plus heat equals fire."

He couldn't help but laugh at her even though it earned him another glare. "You preheat the oven, turn it off, and then put the box in the oven to keep it warm while certain people spend an excessive amount of time fixing their hair and make-up."

"You think you're so funny, don't you, Blake Reilly?"

"We're just eating pizza and watching a movie," he said as he grabbed a couple plates from the cabinet. "You didn't have to get all made up—it's casual."

"I'm wearing jeans—not a cocktail dress."

"Yeah, you're fine," he agreed when he realized that she was getting defensive over his gentle teasing. "Your hair does look great though."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now carry that beer to the couch so we can start the movie marathon."

Despite having seen _Cape Fear_ before, both of them watched the movie in relative silence. Blake sat on one end of the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table and Cricket sat on the other with her legs stretched across the length of the couch such that her toes occasionally brushed against the side of his leg when something startling happened in the movie.

"You up for another?" he asked as the credits started to roll.

"I am if you are."

"Yeah, but I need more food." She shifted her position so that she could slide the half-empty pizza box toward him with her foot. "Nah," he said to her unasked question.

"Fava beans and a nice chianti?" she asked with a surprisingly accurate Hannibal Lector voice.

"Only if you have the liver to go with."

"Shame we're both using ours." He watched her stand up and grab a couple of the empty beer bottles. "How about dessert?" she suggested. "We have ice cream."

Blake got up from the couch and grabbed the empty plates and bowls. "With fresh baked cookies?" he asked as he followed her into the kitchen.

"Do I look like I've been baking?"

"Here." He handed her the dishes so he could open the refrigerator. Pulling out the plastic container he had put in there earlier, he said, "That's why I brought cookie dough." Blake set the container on the counter and waited for Cricket to put the dirty dishes in the sink. "Go ahead, open it up," he prompted. "Where's your baking sheet?"

"The cabinet," she said with a vague gesture to about four cabinets. Blake opened the narrowest one and pulled out the baking sheet. He turned the oven on and turned around to find Cricket staring at the now open container of cookie dough. "It's open," she said anticlimactically.

Blake couldn't help but laugh at her lack of enthusiasm. "Now we take the cookie dough, make balls, and put it on the sheet."

"With what?"

"Our hands." When she looked at him with thinly veiled disgust, he added, "It's not that bad. Stick out your hand." She reluctantly did as he asked and used a spoon to scoop some of the cookie dough up and into her outstretched palm. He got a scoop for himself and said, "Now we roll."

Cricket mimicked his motions until she held a slightly misshapen but for the most part round ball of cookie dough. He smiled when, after placing her cookie dough on the sheet, she willingly held out her hand for another blob of cookie dough. "So have you really never made cookies before?" he asked.

"Daddy Bo's not much of a baker."

"You never baked with your mama as a kid?"

"No."

"My mama baked all the time when I was kid—she still does," he explained. "My horse threw me when I was eight. I broke my leg and spent half the summer in a cast. Naturally, I went stir crazy and snuck out to the stables on day two. When my mama found out, she was livid—said she wasn't going to let me out of her sight until the cast was off, which meant I was trapped in the kitchen with her. Once the cast came off, I barely set foot in there when I wasn't eating—unless she was baking cookies. Nothing smells more like home than fresh baked cookies."

Had Blake been paying closer attention, he would have noticed the way Cricket's posture had stiffened while he spoke. Instead, he got caught up in his own memories and didn't notice anything was amiss until her hand didn't reach out for another scoop of cookie dough. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Is this fun for you?"

"Baking?" He wasn't quite sure what she was getting at, but she had that look in her eyes that told him trouble was coming. "I wouldn't call it fun, but it's all right."

"Not the damn cookies, your little story."

"It's just a story."

"Don't act all innocent,_ Cowboy_," she snapped. For the most part, they didn't talk about high school and they actively avoided talking about Amanda. Still every now and then, he'd make a stray remark that would lead to a dismissive comment from Cricket with Amanda's nickname for him tacked on the end. Usually, Blake would get the message and change the subject, but this time the look in Cricket's eyes told him this wasn't something she was about to let go.

"You've been needling me about my mama ever since you walked through that door," she continued angrily. "And now I'm supposed to believe that this heartwarming little tale about baking with yours just popped into you head?"

"It did."

For a second, it looked like Cricket was going to believe him, but then she shook her head. "Then why bring the cookie dough in the first place?" she asked. "You are just like her, taking every opportunity to rub in my face how perfect your life is compared to mine. Is it fun for you to remind me how my mama left me? Why don't you call your _Cowgirl_ and trade stories? Maybe you can share a few laughs."

Her face all but deflated when she finished, and before Blake could react, she rushed into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. Knowing that she had locked the door, Blake went back to the cookies. When he finished sliding the baking sheet into the oven, he walked to Cricket's bedroom door and gently rapped his knuckles against the wood. He got no response, but something told him she was sitting on the other side of the door stubbornly waiting for him to leave. Unfortunately for Cricket, he was just as stubborn as she was.

"I'm sorry," he said into the silence. "I didn't come over because I wanted to upset you. I would never intentionally hurt you, Cricket. You have to know that."

He had hoped that would be enough, but it got no response—not even movement from the other side of the door. "I brought the cookie dough because it makes me think of home and I thought…" he trailed off as he thought about what really prompted him to come over beyond the instinctive knowledge that he should. "When Hunter Jean told me you were sick, I knew you were hiding and that worried me. You never hide from anything—no matter how hard it gets."

His mind drifted from the image of Cricket walking the halls of Hillside even after she had been branded a javelina to when they were much younger. Blake decided to try another tactic. "You remember the church picnic when we were six?" he asked. "You were eating with your friends and Cordero Roberts came up behind you and dropped a cricket on the picnic blanket in front of you."

"It was a grasshopper."

It was a relief to hear her voice. "Which is what you told him when you dropped it down the back of his shirt. The rest of those girls went screaming for their mamas, but not you. You didn't back down. I've never seen you hide from anything until tonight."

Another minute of silence passed before she spoke. "Caruths don't show weakness," she said finally. "I've spent my entire life trying to live up that standard, but I woke up this morning and realized that I didn't have anything to prove to Hunter Jean or the rest of my sorority sisters. For once, I didn't have to be a Caruth."

"Then I showed up," he concluded.

"That you did."

"You don't have to do that with me. You don't have to _be_ anyone—not with me." He heard movement on the other side of the door and a second later it opened a few inches. "There are those cornflower blue eyes I love," he said and, as he expected, she rolled them in response. Still, when he held out his arms she stepped into his hug.

"Whoever I am is a disaster," she said into his shoulder.

"You are not."

"You should run away while you still can, Blake."

"Too late." He pulled back from the hug. "Besides, I can't leave you while the oven's on—you'd probably start a fire trying to turn it off," he teased.

His joke had been exactly what they needed to break the emotional tension and they slipped back into the easy banter of their friendship as they waited for the cookies to finish. Before long, they had resumed their old positions on the couch and were watching _Silence of the Lambs_ as if the cookie dough incident had never happened. Blake assumed the conversation was over and, so he was surprised when she was brought it up forty minutes into the movie.

"She used to fix my hair—that's what I remember," Cricket said abruptly. Blake looked over at her but she kept her focus on the television. "Every morning, I'd sit in front of her vanity she'd fix it however I wanted—braids, curls, you name it. She made it look so effortless. I still can't do some of those styles."

He kept silent after she finished and they went back to watching the movie, but after a few minutes he could tell Cricket wasn't really paying attention to Hannibal Lector. He didn't want to force the issue but he knew she would keep it all bottled up inside if he didn't push a little bit. "What happened with her and your daddy?" he asked.

"They got divorced."

"Why?"

"They weren't compatible." Blake remained silent, knowing that it would annoy her enough to make her keep talking. "They fought sometimes—or a lot, okay?"

"About what?"

"Stuff—I don't know. Why do you even care? I'm sure your _Cowgirl_ already told you all the details."

This time when she said _cowgirl_ her voice sounded more hurt than it did angry, which made Blake wonder what really went down between Amanda and Cricket. Back in high school, he had been willfully ignorant toward the fighting between the girls. The timing of the rumor coupled with Bill's newfound relationship with Amanda was proof enough that Amanda had been involved, but Blake never bothered to confirm it. Cricket had her own mean streak, so he new wondered how it affected her. It wasn't that he thought she deserved it, but by spring of their senior year she was dating a freshman from SMU so he assumed none of it had really bothered her. Since they started studying together, however, he realized that it had and that it ran deeper than just stealing a boyfriend.

"She never said anything about your mama," he told her honestly.

"Maybe she's not as evil as I thought," Cricket said more to herself than to him. "Still I'm sure you know some details."

Blake thought back to what he could remember about Delilah Ralston Caruth, but there wasn't much. She had been tall and blonde with fair skin and eyes like Cricket's but he couldn't remember anything substantial. "Not much," he admitted. "One week the pastor told there was a wreck and that we should pray for you and your mama, and then the next week you walked into church with your daddy and a green cast on your arm."

"So you never heard the gossip?" she asked. Her voice was more curious than confrontational. "That she'd been drinking when we got in that wreck?"

"I try not to believe rumors."

"Sometimes rumors can be better than the truth."

"What do you mean?"

"She was high, Blake." She drew her knees up to her chest and looked at him with an unblinking gaze as she continued, "My mama had a problem with pills. They'd always fight, but after the wreck, Daddy Bo was madder than I'd ever seen him. He gave her an ultimatum: get help or get out of our lives. Guess which one she chose?"

"Cricket…"

"I don't need your pity, Blake Reilly, so put it away. This is why I don't talk about her—don't think about her."

Blake watched her put on that mask again and his heart broke for her. "It's not weak," he said after a minute. He inched across the couch and was surprised when she tucked her legs under her so that he could get closer rather than pushing him away. "Missing your mama doesn't make you weak."

"I don't miss her. I just… I… Sometimes I wish I knew why she left—why she left me."

"I don't know, Crick." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "She missed out and it's her loss."

Her voice came out just above a whisper. "Then why am I the one who feels it?"

Blake pulled her closer to him without saying anything. I wasn't that he didn't know what to say—he had heard more than enough platitudes from the women at church growing up that would be appropriate—but he knew Cricket would interpret whatever he said as either insincere or pity. So instead, he kept his arm around her and traced a repetitive pattern on her arm until she relaxed against him and they returned to watching the movie.

* * *

A/N: I'd love to hear what you think , so click that little button and let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry for the delay folks. This one's a little more dramatic than the others-well, maybe not dramatic, but it's not really happy-go-lucky Blicket.

* * *

**June 1992**

"Criiicket!"

She rolled her eyes quickly before turning around. "Yes, Carlene?" she asked with a smile. They were nearly two hours into Sharon and Zack's wedding reception and about fifty hours into the bridal party weekend that Carlene had planned for the bride that began with a bachelorette party Thursday night, followed by a Friday spa day that included Sharon's mother, grandmother, and aunts, and then the actual wedding on Saturday. It actually had made for a fun weekend, but that many hours with the same group of women was draining—especially when Carlene and Sharon were running things.

"How was my toast?"

"It was lovely."

"Do you think it was funny enough?"

"Carlene, you heard people laughin'."

"You're right," Carlene said with a self-satisfied grin. "It was perfect."

Cricket bit the inside of her cheek. "Yes," she agreed. "You make a great maid-of-honor."

"Thank you." They fell into a brief silence as they watched people milling around the ballroom, but it didn't last long. "It really was a lovely ceremony, wasn't it?"

"Mmhmm," Cricket murmured in agreement but kept her gaze on the dance floor. She decided that an actual verbal comment was unnecessary since she was convinced that Carlene liked hearing her own voice more than anything else in the world.

"And the reception is beautiful. I hope our weddings are like this one day," she said with a sigh. Cricket glanced over at Carlene and noticed a glint in the other woman's eye. "Except you and I would never have flowers this tacky," she finished with a wink and Cricket couldn't help but respond with a smirking nod of agreement. "Looks like your daddy's coming to ask you to dance," she said. "See you later, sugar."

Sure enough, her daddy was at her side a few seconds later. "Daddy Bo," she greeted.

"Cricket." He held out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

She didn't accept right away—she never did. It was one of the few jokes she shared with her daddy. When Cricket was four, her aunt got married and during the reception her daddy asked her to dance, but she responded with a blunt 'no' and told him she 'had other options' and that he 'could dance with her later.' Her mama had started to scold her but Daddy Bo had laughed and asked who the other man in her life was. Cricket's answer: Granddaddy Bo. She couldn't actually remember that night but her granddaddy had retold the story enough times that she felt like she did.

"Yes," she agreed finally and slipped her hand in his, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor where they danced in comfortable silence.

"A letter came from UT today," he said after a minute.

"Grades?" Cricket guessed and he nodded. Even though the envelope would have been addressed to her, she knew Daddy Bo would have opened it. "And?"

"All As. Well done."

Knowing her daddy couldn't see her face, Cricket let out an uncharacteristically wide grin. She had worked hard all semester so she wasn't surprised by the grades, but those two words of praise—no matter how small—brought her more happiness than she had expected them to.

They danced wordless for another minute before he said, "Blake Reilly is a decent young man."

Cricket crinkled her brow slightly. "He's a good friend."

"Is that all he is?"

"Yes," she said while wishing he would just drop the subject completely

"A guy like Blake's not going to wait around forever, Cricket."

She didn't say anything in response but she knew her tense shoulders were telling Daddy Bo everything he needed to know.

"Not everyone can afford to string guys along," he said as the song finally finished. His words left Cricket confused but she her best not to show it as her daddy kissed her hand. "Thank you for the dance, darlin'."

Walking off the dance floor, Cricket scanned the room for the nearest waiter. There was one a few feet away, so she strode over to him and grabbed a flute of champagne. Not caring how it looked, she all but guzzled it. It was halfway empty by the time she heard Blake say her name.

"Hey Cricket."

She lowered the glass from her lips. "Blake," she said with a smile.

"I saw you dancing with your daddy."

She read the unasked question in his eyes but chose to ignore it and finished her drink instead. A part of her knew that her non-response would be answer enough for Blake. And that same part of her wondered why he even bothered spending time with her when her personal drama always seemed to spill over into their friendship. Thankfully, she felt the champagne beginning to take effect and was able to push those thoughts out of her head.

"You wanna dance?" she asked.

He smiled and held out his hand. "I thought you'd never ask." Once on the dance floor they fell into an easy rhythm with the slow music. "You look great tonight."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow. "I find the chiffon to shoulder pad ratio to be terrifying."

"It is, but you make it work."

"Liar."

"You do."

"Thanks."

Resting her head against his shoulder, her mind drifted back to what Daddy Bo had said. Blake _was_ a decent guy. He was more than decent—probably the best friend she'd ever had. This wasn't the first time someone had questioned whether they were more than friends. Her roommate had even tried to catch them doing more than just studying by getting back to the apartment early one night, but was only partially successful. Hunter Jean did catch them not studying, but they were merely watching a movie with Blake on one end of the couch and her on the other. The only time they touched was to pass the popcorn.

Carlene had made a comment earlier that weekend as well. While the women in Sharon's unnecessarily large bridal party were at the spa, the diminutive bleach-blonde made a point of apologizing to Cricket that Blake, as Zack's best man, would be escorting her down the aisle. Cricket had rolled her eyes and dismissed the comment by pointing out that she and Blake only went to the same school and weren't joined at the hip or otherwise entwined. Still, Cricket couldn't deny that she hadn't thought about it.

Blake was charming and funny and had this uncanny ability to know what she was thinking before she could put it into words. But he had never done or said anything to make her think they were more than friends. Besides, she wasn't really his type—every girl Blake had dated was always blonde and _perky_. This never bothered her before, but now, as she felt his strong arms wrapped around her waist and thought about the way he rushed to her side when he saw her downing the champagne, she began to wonder if he thought she wouldn't be interested in him—or worse, that she was too unstable to pursue given her unfortunate penchant for breaking down in front of him.

"C'mon," Blake said when the song finished. "Let's get out of here—get some air."

"Sure," she agreed, following after him. When he didn't head straight to the main exit of the ballroom she asked, "Where are we goin'?"

"We need beverages."

She spotted the unattended ice bucket with champagne, but unlike Blake she also spotted two women standing a couple yards away. "Church ladies, ten o'clock," she mumbled.

"You…"

"I got it," she said before he could finish the request. Putting a practiced smile on her face, she approached the women. "Ms. Helen, Ms. Dottie," she greeted brightly. Cricket effortlessly breezed through the standard wedding small talk—complementing Sharon's dress and choice of flowers—while keeping an eye on Blake. After cracking a mildly self-deprecating joke about the size of the wedding party, she said, "Speaking of wedding parties, I have bridesmaid duties to attend to, but it was lovely talking to you. See y'all at church tomorrow."

"Nicely done," Blake complimented when she rejoined him.

"You're not the only one who can work the southern charm, Blake." She looked at the bottle in his hand and noticed the absence of glasses. "Forgettin' something?"

He grabbed two flutes from flutes from a table near the door. "Nope."

Once free from the wedding guests, they made their way down the hallway and ended up outside a balcony on the opposite side of the building as the ballroom. The balcony—clearly having been designed for smokers—was mostly empty with the exception of a couple benches surrounded by potted plants and ashtrays. Any smokers at the reception were out on the balcony closer to the ballroom, so Blake and Cricket had the space to themselves.

They sat down on one of the benches and Blake poured them each a glass of champagne. He held it up and said, "To Sharon and Zack."

"Sharon and Zack," Cricket echoed as she clinked her glass against his before they each took a drink.

"Today seems almost unreal," he said after a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"That we're old enough to get married," he elaborated. "Seems like just yesterday that we were still kids."

Cricket chuckled slightly. "Blake, you're talking like we're older than dirt—we're nineteen."

"I know, but it makes ya' think."

"'Bout what?'

"Where we'll be in fifteen years—what we'll be doin'," he elaborated. "You ever think about it?"

She finished her champagne. "Sometimes," she said with a shrug.

"Where will you be in fifteen years?" he asked as he refilled both of their drinks.

"Running my daddy's company."

"Of course—you'll probably have doubled its worth."

"Tripled. What about you?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "Marketing or development—something other than straight finance."

"You're too creative for finance," she agreed. "You see the big picture—not just the numbers."

"Maybe I'll work for you."

"Daddy Bo'd probably hire you right now," she said without really thinking.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothin'—he just likes you is all," she said dismissively. She took another drink of her champagne even though she knew it was the reason she let the last comment slip. "Grades came out today."

"You had time to check the mail today?"

"Daddy Bo did."

"He brought your mail to a wedding reception?"

"No, he opened it."

"Weren't they addressed to us?"

"What does it matter?" she asked in annoyance. Most of the time, she loved Blake's ability to read her because it meant he generally let things go when she didn't want to talk about them, but for some reason he was fixated on this. "You're acting like Daddy Bo committed a federal offense."

"Well, technically…"

She cut him off, "Really, Blake? It's a lousy report card. Who cares?"

"My parents don't open my mail."

"And that what? Makes them better than my daddy?"

"You're puttin' words in my mouth."

She crossed her arms and asked, "Am I now?"

"I was just making an observation," he said with a shake of his head. "I swear, Cricket, you could start an argument in an empty house." Blake may have been able to avoid most conflict with his cowboy charm, but Cricket was not about to fall for it and just glared at him. "I'm sorry," he said after a minute. He took her near empty glass and refilled it as a peace offering. "I didn't mean to imply anythin' about your daddy."

"I may have overreacted," she admitted as she took back the champagne flute. Blake smirked at her in response and she took a sip of the drink. "Daddy Bo may not be perfect, but he's not a bad father. He just…" She looked down at the glass in her hands. "Never mind."

"Crick…"

She didn't look up at him when he said her name and instead focused on the dozens of bubbles swirling through the liquid and bouncing against the crystal of the flute in her hands. She felt ridiculous. It wasn't some big secret that Daddy Bo had wanted a son—half the church knew—but there was something about her having to put it into words that scared her. It always sounded so weak—so pathetic. But this was Blake. She knew she should trust him, but even as he gently removed the champagne flute from her grasp, she still had doubts. When he took her hands in his, however, she pushed those doubts aside.

"He wanted a son," she said softly. "But he got me instead."

"He got lucky."

She rolled her eyes slightly before looking at up at him. "Blake, I know my daddy cares about me, so you can drop the concern."

"That's not what I meant. Do you realize how amazing you really are?"

Cricket wasn't entirely sure why responded as she did and, later, she would blame the champagne, but she leaned in to kiss him. Things were fine until he pulled back and slid away from her on the bench.

"Cricket, I…."

She searched his face for some clue as to what she had done wrong. "What?" she asked. Kissing him had been impulsive on her part, but it hardly could be considered entirely unexpected.

"I can't." He stood up abruptly. "Not with you."

She stood up as well and he took a step back. The way he physically distanced himself instantly made her think of Amanda's lie—something she had assumed he didn't believe. "I don't have herpes, Blake."

"I know that. I just…"

"What?" she asked angrily when he trailed off. "Tell me, _Cowboy_."

"Don't do that."

She ignored his comment. There was no way she was going to let Blake turn this conversation into something about high school. "Not two minutes ago you were tellin' me how amazing I was. So that was what—your way of calming me down so I wouldn't have a meltdown or were you just tryin' to fix poor screwed up Cricket?"

"It was the truth. You are amazing."

"But not as amazing as you, right?"

She didn't even wait for him to react before turning around and heading towards the door. Her hand was on the handle when he said her name, "Cricket…"

With her expression blank, she turned around and looked at him. "Don't worry about it, Blake," she said coolly. "School year's over. I'm not your problem anymore."

* * *

A/N: Let me know what you think. I seriously love the feedback.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry for the delay folks—I was struggling a little with Blake this time because it's a weighty topic, so I hope I did him justice.

* * *

**February 1993**

Nine weeks. That's how much time passed between Sharon and Zack's wedding and when he spoke to Cricket again. It was the longest they'd ever gone without seeing each other—they'd been seeing each other on a weekly basis for Sunday School since they were little kids. To be fair, they weren't actively avoiding each other. Cricket was studying abroad in Italy and he was managing the ranch with his daddy, but he still hated how they had left things. He should have run after her when she rushed off the balcony, but he couldn't make himself do it. As much as he wanted to comfort her, he didn't know what he would have said—how he could have explained it to her. So he had let her run off, figuring he would come up with something to say when he saw her at church the next day, but when he got the church he found out Cricket had changed her flight and was already halfway to Rome.

The summer apart gave him time to think and come to terms with who he was, but the more honest he was with himself the guiltier he felt. He felt like a hypocrite—repeatedly telling Cricket to tell him everything when he couldn't do the same. Blake did trust her, but it wasn't until that August—when she gave him a smile and a wave as she slid into the pew next to her daddy—that he knew he was ready. After the service, he tried to get her alone but she was busy handing out souvenirs and talking to Carlene and Sharon through most of the coffee hour. When he finally did pull her aside to ask her to lunch, she apologized and said she already had plans before handing him a small package and promising to see he before they headed back to Austin. He opened it when he got home to find a belt made of Italian leather and a small note with Cricket's neat handwriting: _Non destare il cane che dorme_. He had to look up its meaning but wasn't all that surprised when he learned it was an Italian proverb that roughly translated to _let sleeping dogs lie_.

At first, Blake hadn't been sure he would do it—he hated whitewashing over things—but when they met for lunch and saw how much she wanted to push past it, he did as she asked. Classes started a week later and their friendship fell back into its rhythm. It wasn't identical to what it had been the year before but it still worked. A part of this new rhythm was Rafe Garretson, a senior from Houston and the reason Cricket had rushed out of church her first Sunday back—she had been meeting Rafe to introduce him to her daddy. To hear Carlene and Sharon describe it, Cricket and Rafe had some great Italian romance: Romeo and Juliet without the rival families and with double the wealth. Cricket's description was much more blasé: they were in the same program and hit it off.

Despite Cricket's efforts to downplay the romance, the pair had hit it off so well that six months after returning from Italy they were still dating. A part of Blake missed the way their study sessions no longer turned into movie nights, but he was glad Cricket was happy—or at least seemed happy since she never talked about Rafe with him. When he did ask, she never gave more than a one or two word reply, so he eventually stopped asking. The last thing he expected was for Cricket to be knocking on his apartment door on Valentine's Day.

"Hey."

He stepped aside for her to walk in but she hesitated. "Your roommate here?" she asked.

"Out—got a hotel suite for him and Suzi."

"Good." She walked inside and he shut the door behind her. "I don't want to deal with people."

"Then why come here?"

"I didn't exactly want to be alone either."

He knew this had to do with Rafe and the Valentine's date Cricket was supposed to be on. "What happened?" She didn't answer immediately, which worried him. He and Rafe were the same fraternity, so Blake knew he was a decent enough guy but there was something about the older guy's arrogance that rubbed him the wrong way. Plus, he couldn't help but feel protective when it came to Cricket. "Did Rafe do something? Because if he…"

She cut him off with wave of her hand. "I appreciate you jumping to defend my honor, but calm down. I'm the one who broke it off."

"You wouldn't break it off without a reason."

"Maybe I did," she said lightly as she shrugged off her coat. When she did, he noticed that the necklace—one that had been around her neck at all times since Rafe had given it to her that Christmas—was missing. "You know how I can be."

Blake could tell there was more to that statement, but wasn't going to push it. Cricket may have come there because she wanted to talk, but he wasn't going to cross the boundaries she carefully established during the last few months. "You hungry?"

"I'm fine."

"It's just past eight, which means you didn't have time to finish your dinner at whatever classy restaurant Rafe took you to and only nibbled on a salad."

"I had soup."

"Which you didn't finish, I'm sure."

"You think you're so smart, don't you?"

"I know when I'm right," he teased. "I ordered Thai a few minutes ago and there's enough to share."

"Thank you."

"But I do need to go pick it up—you wanna come with?"

She shook her head. "But would you…"

"Get extra jasmine rice?" he finished and she nodded. He grabbed his keys from counter and headed for the door, "Be back in a bit."

Blake returned the apartment and was surprised when Cricket wasn't in the kitchen or living area. For a minute he wondered if she had left, but he spotted her purse propped up against her heels just outside the slightly ajar door of his bedroom. Before he could say anything, the door swung open to reveal Cricket wearing a pair of his gym shorts and an orange Texas t-shirt.

"Hey," she said with a half smile. "I hope you don't mind."

He was going to tease her about dressing so casually, but something about the way her hand played with the knot she had tied at her hip with the t-shirt made him hold back. "Of course not," he said. "Looks better on you anyway."

Her half smiled turned into an amused smirk. "Did you get my rice?"

"Of course."

Opening the bag Blake began taking out the containers of food and Cricket wordlessly walked over to help. Once she joined him under the fluorescent lights of the kitchen he noticed that her eyes were red and that much of the make-up she had been wearing when she arrived had been washed off. His instinct was to ask if she was all right and find out what really had happened with Rafe, but knew it would lead to a fight. "You want beer or wine?" he asked instead.

"Beer's fine."

She picked up both their plates and carried them to the couch and he grabbed two bottles from the fridge and opened them before following her. "Zack called me the other day," he said as he sat down on the couch and offered her a beer.

Cricket took it with a nod of thanks. "He did?"

"Said Sharon's pregnant." When she didn't respond, he added, "Which you already know." She nodded. "How long ago did she tell you?"

"Almost two weeks. She conferenced in Carlene so she could tell us at the same time."

"That's kind of sweet."

"She wanted our input on how to tell Zack."

"Wait, she told you two before her husband."

"That's Sharon," Cricket said with a shrug. "Baby's due in August, so she's planning on taking a semester off."

"You think she'll go back?"

"The beauty queen?" she scoffed. It wasn't the first time he'd heard Cricket take that dismissive tone toward Sharon or one of the other girls from high school, but it still surprised him how easily she transitioned from friendly to catty with them. "Sharon's dream is to be a wife and mother," she added.

"If that's what she wants, then what's wrong with it?"

"Sharon doesn't know what she wants. She's just doin' what's expected of her: staying at home with the baby so Zack can focus on getting drafted," she said with borderline disgust. "I'd never do that—I'm having a career of my own."

"So you don't want kids?"

"Not what I said. I'll do both."

He couldn't help but smile at her response. Of course Cricket would want to do it all—why shouldn't she. "How many do you want?"

"Two," she said with certainty. "Boys," she added before he could ask.

"No girls?"

"Girls are complicated."

"Well, I want a daughter."

"You would spoil her rotten."

"And what is wrong with that?"

"Nothing."

He watched as her smile slowly faded. "Crick, what's wrong?"

She shook her head and looked down at her food. They ate in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again, "Rafe decided on Vanderbilt for law school."

"That's a good school."

"He wants me to transfer."

This surprised Blake. He knew they were serious but had never thought they were this serious. Unsure exactly what reaction Cricket wanted, he went for a joke. "I know it's not Texas, but Tennessee's not that bad of a state."

She ignored his comment. "Vanderbilt doesn't even have an undergraduate business school."

"You tell Rafe this?" he asked. It made sense to him now. Cricket wasn't upset that Rafe was moving too quickly—it was the fact that Rafe didn't consider her own plans.

"He couldn't see why it mattered. Said my daddy's going to give me a job no matter what degree I get and that his law degree is more important."

"He's wrong."

"Is he?" Cricket set her plate on the coffee table sharply. She was angry, but Blake knew it wasn't directed at him. "Because Daddy Bo would give me a job even if I didn't graduate."

He set his plate next to hers. "But that's not what you want—you want to run the place. You'd never be happy with some meaningless title your daddy creates for you at the company. You have ambition and goals."

"Sometimes I wish I didn't," she said with a sigh. "I have spent my whole life trying to be the son my Daddy Bo always wanted that I think I forgot how to be a normal girl. My life would be so much easier if I could just be more like Sharon."

He hated hearing sound so defeatist and hated even more that it was Rafe who had made her feel this way. A part of Blake felt responsible since they started dating shortly after he pushed her her away the night of Zack and Sharon's wedding. Rationally, Blake knew that even if Cricket had jumped into a relationship because of him, not even she was stubborn or proud enough to stay with Rafe out of spite. Plus, Blake had seen Cricket genuinely happy with Rafe, but now? He wanted to punch the guy.

Blake reached out to take her hands. "Easy is overrated."

"Blake," she said as she pulled her hands from his. "I'm fine, okay? I just broke up with my boyfriend—that's it. I'm not on the brink of a breakdown or anything. I am fine."

"I know you are, but Cricket…" he trailed off and took her hands again. "Whatever he said, you need to forget it." She tried to pull her hands away again but this time he held fast. At first she refused to meet his eyes but he waited until she did. It was a glare but it was good enough. "Forget it," he repeated. "You're better than him and you're better than the rest of those women. Your ambition makes you who you are, and if Rafe can't see that, then he doesn't deserve you."

Her glare softened. "And what do I deserve?"

"Someone who respects and loves you for who you are."

"Someone like you."

She pulled her hands away and this time he didn't stop her. So much for sleeping dogs. "Cricket."

"Let me say my piece, okay?" she asked and he nodded. "You know how hard it is for me to open up to people—to trust them?" He nodded again. "I trust you. It scares me, but I do and that night… I was in a weird place, I had too much champagne, and I mistook that trust for something else. I couldn't see it. But I do now. I get it."

It took him a second to realize that Cricket was waiting for him to speak. He wasn't exactly sure what he had expected her to say, but it wasn't this. "Get what?"

"Why we can't be anything more than friends."

His mouth went dry. "What are you saying?"

"Blake, we would never work for the same reason you never date anyone—any _girl_—longer than two months." He was speechless. Blake had always thought it was just an expression, but he honestly couldn't form words. "It's okay," she said gently. "You don't have to say it—we don't even have to talk about it."

She amazed him. Just when he thought he had figured her out, she surprised him with pure acceptance and none of the judgmental barbs she usually tossed around so freely. "I'm sorry," he said finally.

"Why are you sorry? You are what you are, Blake. It doesn't change anything. You're still my best friend."

"I mean, I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. It wasn't fair to you."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not like I fell madly in love with you—I kissed you while drunk."

He laughed slightly. "I'm talkin' about how I always push you to tell me things and be honest with me, when I've been holding back. It's hypocritical."

"You may be a pain in the ass with all that sharin' nonsense, but you are not a hypocrite. This is different," she said firmly. "I can't imagine what it's been like for you growing up like we did with church and the judgmental gossip—not being able to be yourself. I don't know how you do it. I would be a mess—afraid all the time."

"I am afraid," he admitted. "I'm afraid what would happen if everyone knew—what they'd say or do."

"It..." He watched her expression shift slightly to one that was almost resigned. "I can't lie and say it won't change things. I wish I could."

"Too bad everyone else can't be more like you."

Cricket straightened her shoulders and gave him a haughty look. "Well, not everyone can be perfect."

"It's a shame, really," he joked.

"How long have you known?"

"I don't know exactly—middle school like everyone else, I guess," he said with a shrug. Blake couldn't pin down an exact moment, but it was during the years they all hit puberty that he realized he didn't really care what girl had a crush on him. "I was in denial in a lot of ways—trying to convince myself that I wasn't."

"Until I kissed you?"

He nodded. "With the other girls—the ones I've dated over the past couple years—I could convince myself that the attraction wasn't there because we just weren't right for each other, but you… Crick, you are smart, beautiful, funny—if there was a woman out for me, it would be you, but… I… I'm gay."

It was the first time he'd said those words out loud to anyone and, even though she already knew, he still wondered how she would react. She didn't say anything but just smiled and slid closer to him. Blake casually wrapped his arm around her shoulders and asked, "How did you know?"

He felt her shoulders shrug before she spoke. "You're my best friend," she said. "And I realized later that when you said you 'couldn't with me' you meant that you couldn't pretend like you do with the other girls."

"Because we have something real and I don't want to jeopardize that. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have your friendship."

Cricket turned her head and smiled up at him. "Let's hope you never find out."

"So where do we go from here?" he asked.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're asking."

"I know you won't."

"And I already told you that none of this changes anything for me."

"I know."

"So, since I'm the one who just broke up with her boyfriend, I believe the normal thing to do would be for you to keep telling me how wonderful I am, let me watch whatever I want on your TV, and offer me ice cream and chocolate."

"You're wonderful," he told her and kissed the top of her head before handing her the remote. "And there's a pint of Rocky Road in the fridge."

* * *

A/N: I want to take a moment to thank all of you who read and review. With the show's cancellation, I did lose a little of my momentum with this but getting your feedback keeps me going. I'm enjoying writing this and I love hearing from other GCB fans, so thank you! (P.S. If you haven't signed the petition to save GCB yet, go do it. You can get all the details of the fan movement here: www-dot-teamgcb-dot-com)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the delay with this. The end of this chapter was giving me the hardest time for some reason. It's also longer than my average chapter, so maybe that's why I struggled with it. Anyway, I hope y'all like it...

* * *

**October 1993**

Leave it to Carlene to change her music choice at the last minute. Cricket supposed she should be grateful that the bride-to-be was only making a change to the pre-wedding music for in the bridal suite and not the entire ceremony, but as she made the forty minute drive back into Dallas in the middle of the night to pick up the perfect CD for Carlene, she began to regret accepting the position of maid of honor. After pulling into her driveway, Cricket got out of the car and dashed to the front door with the intent of making a beeline for her bedroom and getting out of the house before anyone knew she was there.

"Cricket? That you?"

She skidded to a stop when she heard his voice. Backtracking a few feet, she turned and walked into his office to find him seated behind his desk. "Yes, Daddy Bo."

"Aren't you supposed to be at the Southfork Ranch with Carlene?"

Yes, she should be. Actually, they should be in a hotel instead of at the ranch where the television show Dallas was filmed, but Carlene had wanted a themed wedding that began with a rehearsal dinner at the _Ewing Mansion_, overnight accommodations for the wedding party and family, limo rides back into Dallas for the wedding itself, and then limo rides for all the guests back to the ranch for the reception. Of course, she wouldn't bother her daddy with the logistical nightmare it had created for her as maid of honor. "She had a last minute errand she needed me to run," she explained instead with a polite smile on her face.

"Isn't it the maid of honor's job to make sure there are no last minute errands?"

She ignored the thinly veiled criticism. "There wouldn't have been any if Carlene hadn't changed her mind about yet another thing. You know how she can be."

He nodded in agreement. Cricket was about to turn and leave when he said, "She's not the only fickle one."

"What?" she asked, cocking her head a centimeter to the left.

"Drew called my assistant to make an appointment with me next week." She closed her eyes momentarily—there was only one reason a boy she was dating would make an appointment with Daddy Bo. "You fixin' to turn him down too?" he asked once she opened her eyes.

_Yes_, she thought. "I hadn't really thought about it. We haven't been dating for that long."

"Over six months."

Cricket looked at her daddy and tried to figured out what he was thinking but his expression was blank. She pursed her lips and asked, "Do you want me to marry him?"

"I want you to do what's right."

Right—not what makes you happy or even what you want. She folded her arms. "Well, I'm not marrying a boy just because he asks.

"You made that clear." Daddy Bo leaned back in his chair. "If you don't stop being so picky you'll find yourself in a nine line bind."

"They weren't the right ones."

"Why not?"

"Well, if I married Brody after high school, I'd be a college dropout with a baby right now."

"A grandson wouldn't be the end of the world."

"What about a granddaughter?" she shot back. She let out a half smirk in satisfaction when he didn't have an immediate response.

"And Rafe?" he asked. "He was a good man from a good family."

"Who didn't give a damn what I wanted."

"Language, Cricket," he scolded gently. Cricket could tell he wasn't really bothered by her use of _damn_ but give him an apologetic look nonetheless. "What is it that you want?"

"To work for you." She looked at him levelly as she gave the same answer she'd had since she was a little girl. "Run the company one day."

"You think Drew would stop you?"

She shook her head. "Only thing Drew cares about is how much money I have," she told him honestly. "Besides, I don't need a husband to be good at business."

"In this town you do." She looked at him in confusion as he stood up and walked over to her. "Now, Cricket, you know I never minded your interest in business, but if you're going to work in a man's world, you need a man at your side or people will talk."

"Talk?"

"There are only a handful of reasons a girl your age isn't engaged and we both know it's not because boys aren't askin'."

She froze as she realized what he was implying and immediately thought of Blake, wondering if he ever got this question. If it made her this uncomfortable, she could only imagine what it felt like for him. "And _that_ isn't the issue."

"Good because it is unnatural," he said with a curt nod. Cricket wished she was surprised that her daddy held that view, but she wasn't—acceptance didn't come easily in their world. "So you can see why I'd be concerned that people might think that about you," he continued. "You're my daughter and I care about you, which is why I know you'll understand what I'm about to say." Cricket held her breath, worried about what he was going to say next. "I would be proud to see you working at Caruth—not just because it's a family company but because you are more than qualified with your grades and the internships. Caruth is where you belong, which is why a job will be waiting for you."

Cricket wanted to smile—to grin—at his compliment but she held back. Caruths did not give in to dramatic displays of emotion. She sensed he was waiting her to say something. "When I graduate?" she asked hesitantly.

"When you're married." Cricket was stunned. She had been so caught up in the idea of him actually being proud to have his_ daughter_ working at Caruth, that she had not expected the job offer to come with strings attached. "I'm not sayin' it has to be to Drew, but it needs to be someone. A pre-nup can protect your assets and I would give the boy—whoever it may be—a job with one of t subsidiaries. Spend the next year and a half thinking about more than just grades, okay?" She nodded numbly and he kissed the top of her head. "Have fun tomorrow."

Left alone in her daddy's office, Cricket didn't know what to think—to do. She wanted to call Blake, but what would she say: my daddy's refusing to give me a job until I'm married so people don't think I'm a lesbian? That would be a horridly uncomfortable conversation. Instead, she pushed it from her mind and went up to her bedroom to get Carlene's music.

Denial could be a powerful thing and she was going to throw herself into her maid-of-honor duties and pretend the last ten minutes never happened. For once, Cricket was thankful for Carlene's flair for the dramatic because the endless lists of demands for her "blessed day" allowed Cricket to focus on the flurry of activity and not her own problems. Of course, she couldn't ignore them complete but she managed to keep her thoughts at bay until it was time for Carlene to toss the bouquet.

"Cricket!" Carlene said in a demanding tone when the brunette carried over the bouquet. "You need to get out there with the single ladies."

"I am your maid of honor, Carlene. I need to announce to everyone that you're tossin' the bouquet."

"I'll do it," Sharon volunteered immediately.

Before Cricket knew it she was standing with a group of women eagerly waiting for the bride to the throw the flowers. Cricket rolled her eyes and edged her way to the far side of the group, but Carlene still managed to catch her eye and wink before turning around to do a "blind" toss. Sure enough, Carlene sent the bouquet sailing directly at Cricket, leaving her with no choice but to grab the floral monstrosity or be nailed in the face with it.

Plastering a smile on her face, Cricket waited for Ripp to do a similar routine with Carlene's garter. The entire process was ridiculous—as if a bunch of flowers and a garter was really going to predict matrimonial bliss. She watched the garter fly through the air and rolled her eyes when she saw Blake jump up and reach over the shoulder of another man to catch.

Carlene clapped her hands when she saw Blake holding the garter. "Ooo, yay!" she squealed.

"Come on, Crick," Sharon said as she pulled her by the arm and led her to a chair. "Get your foot up there."

Cricket reluctantly put her foot on the chair and waited for Blake to walk over. "You gotta lift your foot, Crick," he said while giving her his typical grin.

She did as he asked and gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Cricket was certain he knew she was upset but it didn't stop him from playing up the moment for the other guests as he slid the garter up her leg. When he held out his hand after he finished, she took it dutifully and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately.

"What were you thinking?"

"That I wanted to dance with you."

"We've danced together three times already," she reminded him. "There was no reason for you to tackle someone for a garter."

"I didn't tackle anyone."

"You came damn close."

"I did it for you."

She rolled her eyes. "I bet you did."

"I did," he said earnestly. "I saw your face when Carlene threw the bouquet at you. You looked madder than a hornet. I figured if I caught the garter you'd be less likely to kill someone."

"Or I'll just kill you."

"We have our corporate strategy presentation in two weeks."

"Good point. Maybe I'll kill you after."

"You really that upset?"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"Crick…"

Of course he couldn't let it go. "You're only making things worse."

"Making what worse?"

"Match-makin' is Sharon's new hobby," she said with a sigh. "She wants everyone married with a baby and thinks we would be perfect for each other."

"Zack did ask me about you."

Her eyes narrowed. "What'd you say to him?"

"That you were seeing someone else. You are still dating Drew, right?"

"Yes." She immediately regretted the sharpness the crept into her tone knowing that Blake would pick up on it.

"Did you tell Sharon that?"

"Yes, but Carlene decided that me not bringing him to the wedding as my date was a sign that the relationship is doomed."

"Why didn't you bring him?"

"Do you have any idea how many rules Carlene had for her bridal party?" Cricket knew that he did; she'd been complaining to him about the wedding planning for months. "Number three on the list of protocol: bridesmaids must have dates in the wedding party."

"You could have found a way around that rule—had him come to the reception."

"He had a conflict."

"Is Carlene right?"

"It's his granddaddy's birthday."

"Cricket."

The song was almost over, so she considered being evasive and avoiding the issue, but she knew it was only delaying the inevitable since Blake would eventually get it out of her. "Drew loves my money more than he will ever love me."

"Then why are you still with him?"

"I need a date to Winter Formal," she said glibly.

"I'll take you."

"I don't need a pity date."

"It wouldn't be a pity date and you would have more fun with me than you would with Drew."

He punctuated his statement by throwing her into a dip with a flourish as the song ended. Despite herself, Cricket couldn't help but smile at the head rush she got when he pulled her out of the dip. "Of course I would," she admitted. "But I'll never find a husband if I spend all my time with you."

"You really that concerned about getting married?"

She led the way off the dance floor. "I'm not getting' any younger."

"You're twenty."

"Exactly."

"Cricket…"

"Blake, we are not going to get into this now. We don't have the best track record when it comes to wedding receptions. Besides, I have to get back to the new Mrs. Cockburn."

She avoided Blake for the rest of the evening. Well, she didn't exactly avoid him, but she made sure that they were surrounded by friends and other wedding guests for the rest of the night. Of course, this became harder to do as the night wore on and the guests began loading into the limos and heading back to Dallas. The members of the massive wedding party—one that somehow managed to be bigger than Sharon's was—kept the party going after the bride and groom made their exit, but Cricked slipped out as soon as she could.

When she walked into the lodge where the wedding party had their rooms, she was surprised to see Blake. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "I could have sworn I left you in the reception hall."

"You did."

"And you beat me here how?"

"Short cut." He held out a half-inch binder decorated with pink ribbon. Two weeks into being Carlene's maid of honor, Cricket realized her friend's demands needed serious organization and created a binder. "I believe this belongs to you. Although last time I saw this thing, it wasn't nearly as festive."

"Sharon got her hands on it."

"You wanna go burn it?" Cricket laughed but shook her head. "I thought you hated this thing."

"Oh, I do, but Carlene wants me to save it." She took it from him and added, "Lord knows why."

"So what are you doing now?"

"Headin' to bed."

"Wrong," he corrected. "You're coming riding with me."

"What? No."

"Yes. You need to get away from all this wedding nonsense."

"I need sleep."

"You've got too much on your mind to sleep—I know that look."

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. Cricket hated his insistence, but knew he was right. "Well, I'm not goin' ridin' in the middle of the night."

"Yeah, you will. Go change."

"Into what? I didn't bring riding clothes."

"Wear what you had on for brunch this mornin'."

In her mind, she pictured the knee-length pale floral sundress. "It's still a dress."

"Go change and meet me by the stables."

Blake left without waiting for her to respond, which managed to infuriate her and make her smile. Generally, she hated being told what to do—especially when the orders came from a man—but with Blake it was different. For one thing, he usually asked rather than ordered, but even when he told her to do something it came from a place of mutual respect rather than the more base: _I'm a man and I know best_ approach other guys tended to take. Slipping out of her bridesmaid dress and into the simpler one she had worn that morning, Cricket assessed her hair in the mirror. Although normally not one for a ponytail, she ran her fingers through the hairspray stiffened curls and twisted them into a decent enough bun at the back of her head. It would be good enough.

"Blake," Cricket called softly when she got to the stables. She saw a light coming from what she assumed was a tack room, but wasn't about to go back there unless she knew Blake was in the stables.

"Comin'."

He emerged from the tack room with a grin and she shot him a disapproving look. "Quiet," she scolded. "What if someone hears you?"

He gestured vaguely towards the tack room. "The ranch hands know we're here."

"But the other wedding guests don't need to know."

"They're nowhere near the stables."

"I heard voices."

"Luke Lourd and his friends, who are high as kites."

She nodded and eyed what looked like his gym shorts folded in his hands. "That for me?"

"For under your skirt," he explained while gesturing towards an empty stall. "Sorry it's not as fancy as the dressing room at Neiman's," he teased lightly before turning around.

"I'll let it slide…this time." Cricket slipped into the shorts, rolled them once at the waist, and then pulled the drawstring tight. "What am I going to do about shoes?" she asked as she rearranged the skirt of her dress over the shorts. Even with them rolled at the waist, they still hung down just past the hem of her dress. "Because I am not ruining a pair of perfectly good heels because you want a midnight horseride."

"Turn around." She turned around and saw a new pair of boots that were clearly from the ranch's gift shop based on the _Dallas_ TV logo etched into the leather on the toe. "They're a little tacky," he said. "But it's the best I could do on short notice."

Knowing he couldn't see her smile, she took on a haughty tone. "Luckily no one but you will see me in them."

She put on the boots and they got onto the horses that the ranch hands had saddled for them. As much as she hated to admit it, Blake was right—riding was exactly what she needed. For the first time in the last twenty-four hours she was able to forget about Daddy Bo and just focus on the horse and keeping pace with Blake. They rode until they reached the edge of Southfork's property, where they slowed and dismounted.

Blake began tying his horse to the fence and when she moved to do the same, he took the reins from her hands and said, "I got it." With nothing else to do, Cricket hopped up on the top rail of the fence and watched him with the horses. Having spent more than enough time at her daddy's ranch growing up, Cricket knew her way around horses but Blake was even more natural with them than she had ever been. In all honesty, he looked more at ease in that moment than she'd ever seen him.

She watched him pull two items from his saddle bags and immediately recognized the outline of a champagne bottle in the moonlight. "You really think that's a good idea?"

"There's plenty left over." He bent down to set the other item—a camping lantern—on the ground. He flipped it on and added, "No one will notice that I walked out with a bottle."

"What if I get drunk and try to make out with you again?" she asked with smirk.

He shot her a grin. "I'll take my chances," he said before popping the cork. The horses both whinnied in protest to the noise, but they settled down quickly. "Sorry I don't have glasses." He held out the bottle to her. "Ladies first."

"Thanks," she took the bottle and took a sip—relishing the way the bubbles burned her throat slightly—before handing it back to him. He took his own drink and leaned against the fence—resting his arms across the top rail, close enough that his arm grazed her thigh lightly as they silently passed the bottle back and forth between them

"What is it?" he asked after a few minutes.

Sighing, she passed the bottle back to him and looked up at the stars. "Why does it always have to be something with me?" she asked.

"Something's been botherin' you all day."

"It's been a busy weekend."

"You love being busy—you told me there's no such thing as too many irons in the fire."

"You should learn to forget what I say. I know I do." she said while reaching for the bottle again. For a second she thought Blake was going to keep it—use it as a way to make her talk—but he handed it over.

"What happened after the rehearsal dinner?"

She was intentionally being difficult and could tell it was annoying him, but didn't really care. "Nothing."

"Did Carlene and Sharon come on too strong with the whole wedding and match makin' thing?"

"Yeah," she lied. "But, like I said, it's nothing—really not a big deal."

"Cricket." Throughout the conversation she'd been looking at the stars, the horses, the bottle of champagne—anything but Blake, but something in the way he said her name made her look over to him. "What happened after the rehearsal dinner?

"I had to run a last-minute errand for Carlene," she explained with a shrug. "I went back to my house and ran into Daddy Bo. You want to know what he had to say?"

"Sure."

"That he was proud of me. Well, not exactly those words. But he said he would be proud to have me working at Caruth."

She watched Blake's initial reaction of a smile fade based on what she assumed was her own expression. "What else?" he asked.

"That a job would be waiting for me—once I'm married." Blake didn't say anything so she continued, "He even offered to give the lucky man a job. I should be grateful, shouldn't I?" Again, Blake remained silent. "Will, you please say something?" she asked with an exasperated sigh. "I'm not going do my usual defensive thing and jump down your throat for criticizing him."

She watched him as he considered what he was going to say. "Is it because he wants a man running the company."

His answer surprised her. Cricket had expected him to be critical or blatantly outraged on her behalf, but instead he was logical and calm. "I don't think so—said the job would be with a subsidiary."

"Then why do you think he said it?"

"Because Caruths always keep up appearances." She straightened her shoulders unconsciously as she spoke. "God-forbid, people start to talk about how Clint Caruth's daughter, _bless her heart_, couldn't find a husband like all the other girls her age."

"You ever think that maybe he wants you to be happy?"

"Daddy Bo's not that sentimental."

"Maybe he wants you to find love—have the marriage he never did."

"My parents loved each other, Blake."

"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "From what you said…"

"I know what it sounds like—how it looked—but it wasn't always like that. They were so much in love that Daddy Bo called off his engagement to Miss Bitsy."

"Carlene's Aunt?"

She nodded in the affirmative. "They got engaged the summer she graduated from Hillside, but when he started his junior year he met my mama—she was a freshman. He ended things with Bitsy over Thanksgiving and was dating my mama by Christmas and engaged by summer. Bitsy never got over it—hated my mother for stealing the Caruth fortune from her."

"How do you know all this?"

"Eavesdropping," she said with a shrug. "I did it a lot as a kid—only way I could find out what was really going on." She sighed before taking another drink from the bottle. "Look, there's no point in dissecting Daddy Bo's motives. It's not going to change anything."

"You could change it."

"Do you know how many people have ever changed Daddy Bo's mind? Zero."

"Not his mind—the situation." He took the bottle from her hands and set it on the ground. "Apply somewhere else. There are dozens of companies who'd love to have you."

"You're sayin' I should just cut ties with Daddy Bo."

"No. Just with the company."

Cricket couldn't believe what he was saying. Blake knew better than anyone how much she wanted to work at Caruth and for him to suggest that she just walk away from it? "That'd never work."

"It could—you could live your life on your terms."

"Like you do?" she snapped. "How can you tell me to be true to myself when you're fixin' to spend your whole life living a lie." As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. "I'm sorry." She glanced over at him briefly before fixing her gaze on the lantern. "I'm just lashin' out. Ignore me."

"You're right."

"No, I…"

"You are. I am never going to be able to have the life—the family—I want."

She looked up from the lantern and over to him. "You can still have that, Blake. You can find someone, adopt…"

"Maybe—but not in Dallas."

"You could leave," she suggested half-heartedly, even though she knew he never would. She and Blake were alike that way—they were Texan through and through and Dallas was where they belonged.

His serious face gave way to a smirk. "I would not subject myself to life in some second-rate state."

Cricket smiled in response. Blake reached down to pick up the champagne bottle and offered it to her. She shook her head, so he took a drink instead. "Look," she began when he returned the bottle to the ground. "I know I have…" she trailed off as she searched for the word. Issues, is what came to mind, but that sounded too clinical for some reason. "That things can be complicated between Daddy Bo and me, but he's not the reason I want to work at Caruth."

"Then why?"

"To prove that I can do it—not just to him, but to myself. I've never been…" Again, she trailed off. In her head, her list of self doubts—the ones she worked so hard to conceal, even from Blake—started pushing to the front of her mind. "I know I can do it," she said definitively, pushing those thoughts away. "And I am not going to let anything stop me."

"And what does that mean?"

"That I won't let anything stand in my way." She hopped off the fence and added, "We really should be heading back."

"Cricket."

She picked the lantern up from the ground. "Blake, it's late."

"Crick." He grabbed her hand to stop her from going to the horses. "Tell me you're not going to rush into a marriage with Drew just because your daddy wants it."

"You are getting ahead of yourself." She purposely ignored the fact that Drew likely would be down on one knee by the end of the month.

"Tell me you won't do it."

A part of Cricket wanted to ask where he got off trying to dictate how she lived her life, but the way he said it—the look in his eyes—stopped her. It wasn't just the concern of a good friend, but something more—something she couldn't quite name. In that moment, Cricket realized that Blake had a love for her that was different than with other people. It wasn't romantic, but it didn't make it any less special.

"Too bad I can't just marry you," she said. Her tone was lilting, but the way Blake's thumb traced a pattern on her hand told her that he knew she was only half joking.

"That's not an answer, Cricket."

"Don't worry about me Blake." She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "It will give you wrinkles," she added before pulling her hand from his and walking the few feet back to their horses.

* * *

A/N: Please leave me a note and let me know what you think. I think there's going to be just one chapter after this so I'd love the feedback.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I told you guys I wasn't going to abandon this story! But seriously, I do apologize for the delay-real life and work can be such a handful, you know?

* * *

**March 1994**

Blake woke up with a headache and the feeling that he couldn't remember everything that had happened the night before. He shifted slightly and felt the weight of another person on his mattress. Careful not to move too much—both for the sake of his head and the other person in the bed—he rolled over and immediately recognized the dark hair resting on the second pillow. It was still foggy, but the night before began coming back to him. It had been Cricket's twenty-first birthday and after spending the night celebrating with college friends, Cricket insisted they go back to his apartment for one more drink.

"Stop watching me sleep. It's creepy."

Blake smiled at the sound of her voice. "You're not sleeping."

"Still creepy."

She rolled over so that she faced him. "Morning," he said when he saw her blue eyes.

"Morning," she echoed.

"Did you make coffee?" he asked and she nodded. "When?"

She glanced at the clock and shrugged. "An hour ago. I needed an aspirin so I started a pot before I went back to sleep."

"You are too good."

He got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. "Aspirin's out on the counter," she called after him. Even though Blake couldn't see her face, he knew she was smirking. Once in the kitchen, he grabbed the bottle of aspirin and dry swallowed two of them. Taking two mugs off the shelf, he filled them with coffee and then added skim milk to one and sugar to the other. He carried the mugs back into the bedroom and handed the one with sugar to Cricket.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He sat back down on his side of the bed. "Did you have a good birthday?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember it?" he teased gently.

"Yes." She rolled her eyes in annoyance before adding, "Do you?"

He shot her a grin. "Of course."

For a moment she gave him a smile that matched his but then it faded and she became serious. "Blake." She held his gaze while she said his name, but then looked down at the coffee mug cupped in her hands. "We can just forget it."

Blake thought back to the night before when the birthday nightcap transitioned to a 'slumber party' as Cricket had deemed it after she insisted she was a too tired to walk home. Even though she lived in the apartment building directly across the street from his, Blake had agreed and was ready to spend the night on his couch until she insisted they share the bed. _It's not like you're going to try anything_, she had told him with a laugh. _Besides, everybody already assume that we are_, she had added before ducking into his bathroom to change out of her dress and into a t-shirt and pair of his gym shorts.

"If that's what you want," she continued. "We can just go back to normal."

He watched her blow on her coffee to cool it. "Normal's overrated," he said finally.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Blake took a sip of his coffee and grimaced slightly as it burned his tongue. He had known it would be too hot to drink yet, but he wanted a momentary distraction. "I don't know," he admitted finally.

"Great," she muttered. "I'm sorry I even brought it up. It's stupid—I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid, Crick."

"It was a stupid idea."

"It's not."

"That's not what you said last night."

Last night. Last night when they had been lying in his bed and Cricket suggested that they get married. At first he had thought she was joking, but then she rattled off a list of reasons why it would be the perfect arrangement and he realized she was serious. He hadn't been sure how to respond and since it was nearly 2:00 AM he had told her to _just go to sleep_.

"I didn't call anything stupid. It was late, we'd both had more than enough to drink, and I just…"

"What?" she interrupted sharply. "Wanted to stop me from saying something I'd regret."

"No."

"Then what?"

"It just wasn't the right time to talk about that kind of thing."

"That kind of thing?" she questioned. "Translation: you thought it was stupid."

"That is not what I thought." Blake noticed a look of surprise register on her features. "It's just not the kind of decision you make after drinking as much as we did," he continued. It wasn't that he wanted Cricket to take back what she had said, but he didn't think there was a reason to dwell on late night drunken confessions. "Can you honestly tell me that you would have made the same suggestion if you hadn't been drunk?"

He watched her take a drink of her coffee to stall. "Well, no," she admitted

"That's why I stopped you."

"Look, Blake, you're right. If I hadn't been drinking, I probably wouldn't have brought up the idea, but last night wasn't the first time I thought about it. Can _you_ honestly tell me that it's never crossed your mind?"

Of course it had. The arrangement would be almost ideal for him, but it wouldn't be fair to her. "Seriously though, Cricket, how do you think this would to work?" he asked. "I mean…"

"All couples have outside interests," Cricket said glibly. "They say it's healthy."

"I'm pretty sure _they_ don't mean this."

"A marriage is about more than just sex," she said bluntly. "So what if we end up looking to other people for that? We wouldn't be the first people in Dallas—or even our church—to do it. Do you have any idea how many wives look the other way?"

"You expect me to believe that everyone's parents cheat?"

"Not everyone, but enough. More than you'd think." For a second, Blake thought she was going to name names, but she switched directions. "But with us, it wouldn't really be cheating."

"You're proposing—what? That I go away on business trips and you go off to the spa?"

"Not the spa—Sharon and Carlene would want to join. It'd have to be something they'd hate—like tennis lessons. I could get a trainer."

"Cricket."

"What?" She smiled slightly. "My backhand needs work."

"You've really thought about this."

She nodded seriously. "It would be a perfect arrangement."

"A marriage is more than just an arrangement—it's not just a business deal."

"It's about romance?" she asked with scoff. "Because my parents had a romance and we both know how that turned out."

"Cricket, you are not your mama."

"Of course I'm not. Because unlike her, I understand that marriage—a good marriage—is about compatibility."

She had a point. With all the time they spent together, they rarely argued and when they never truly got angry with each other. "We are pretty compatible."

"You need a wife and I need a husband. It's perfect."

"Maybe for me, but not for you. Cricket, just because I can't have a conventional marriage it doesn't mean you shouldn't," he said seriously in hopes that it would convince her to listen. "I know your daddy's been pressuring you…"

"This isn't about Daddy Bo."

"So that ultimatum her gave you a few months ago never crossed your mind?"

Her eyes flashed with anger. "I make my own decisions, Blake."

"I know you do," he said automatically. "But…"

"But nothing," she snapped. Cricket paused to set her coffee mug on the nightstand before continuing. "Last night—before we fell asleep—you said you loved me. Was that a lie?" He shook his head in response. "Then what?" she asked. "Is the idea of marrying me that unbearable?"

"No," he said firmly. "But the idea of you committing yourself to living a lie for me is."

"If we love each other, then it's not a lie."

Blake set his own coffee mug aside. "You deserve more than just spending your life covering for me."

"You need to stop telling me what you think I deserve."

"I'll stop when you start acting like you believe me."

"You want me to rattle off the list of every good quality you've insisted my future husband have?" she asked. "Let me summarize: I deserve someone who loves and respects me for who I am. Who does that describe?"

"Cricket..."

She ignored him. "It describes my best friend. I never feel more beautiful or special than when I'm with you."

"Crick, you could have any man..."

"I want you."

Blake studied her for a minute—taking in her crossed arms and stubborn glare. "We are an unstoppable team," he said finally. Being married to Cricket would give him the life he desired—he could be the conventional husband everyone expected but have a wife with whom he could be completely honest. Nevertheless, he still had reservations about what he believed Cricket deserved, but if this was what she truly wanted, then how could he deny her that? "We'd be the ultimate power couple."

She furrowed her eyebrows as she considered what he said. "Is that a proposal?" she asked.

"Yes."

"That's supposed to be my response."

"You want me to propose right now?"

"Well, I expect you to be on one knee."

"I haven't even asked your daddy."

Cricket rolled her eyes. "Screw Daddy Bo." Blake looked at her in surprise, so she added, "What? You're the one who's always telling me I need to be more independent."

"You're right. Independence looks good on you."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Blake stood up and walked across the room to his dresser. Opening his top drawer he reached toward the back to pull out a small jewelry box his mama had given him nearly a year before. He hadn't even been dating at the time, but his mama had insisted he take it—telling him that he might not be to predict the moment he'd need it. She was right—even if this was the last thing his mama would have expected when she gave it to him.

Cupping the box in his hand he turned around and dropped to one knee. Blake couldn't hold back his grin as Cricket's hand flew over her mouth in surprise. "Cricket Ralston Caruth, you mean more to me than you will ever, ever know." He opened the box and continued, "Will you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Caruth-Reilly?"

He could tell she was fighting to hold back a smile as she asked, "Not Mrs. Reilly?"

"Please, you're a modern woman and this marriage isn't exactly going to be traditional."

"Normal's overrated," she repeated what he said earlier.

"Is that a yes?" he asked.

Cricket finally broke out into a true grin. "Yes."

* * *

A/N: And thus concludes my interpretation of how Blake and Cricket went from high school classmates to husband and wife. I want to take a moment to thank all of you for reading and for the feedback. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
